


And The World Could Be Burning

by nebulera



Category: Aquaman (2018), DC Extended Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Aquaman (2018)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 11:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17559218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nebulera/pseuds/nebulera
Summary: After a long day of fighting, Arthur decides to go home.





	And The World Could Be Burning

**Author's Note:**

> aquaman movie spoilers

For Arthur, everything that had happened over the course of a few days only affirmed his place of belonging. The moment he sets foot into the inconspicuous Metropolis apartment, eyeing the sticky notes and travel magnets on the fridge, the mason jar on the counter filled with a collection of seashells, the bookcase’s mixture of their favorite works, the unmade bed visible through the crack in the door, and the inviting couch, he lets go of the overwhelming grandeur of Atlantis, just for now, to be reminded of how much he finds solace in the simplicity.

There’s only a person missing, though. Arthur, dripping wet from the ocean and the rain, moves completely inside, shaking his trident of excess water droplets and setting it against the wall. In one swift movement, because the sight of home has only made him realize how exhausted he is, he flops down on the couch, armor and all. The couch welcomely dips beneath his weight. Arthur’s face goes slack and he shuts his eyes.

The smell of old coffee on the counter blends with fading air freshener, and Arthur is hit with another aspect of comforting familiarity. It’s been less than a week since he was here, but it still feels like forever.

Even though he’s resting his eyes, he doesn’t plan to sleep. It’s taking every fiber of his being not to pass out right here, clad in his thousand-year-old armor, but he won’t sleep until that front door opens.

Right on cue, he hears the jingling of keys outside. Clark steps through the door, shrugs off his jacket, and throws an affirming glance over at Arthur’s recumbent figure. Because even though he could hear him as soon as he stepped into the building, or a block away, or across the ocean, he’ll still confirm so with his own eyes, forgetting about anyway else.

Arthur doesn’t say anything as Clark approaches him. He doesn’t do so in haste, nor does he seem indifferent to seeing him on their couch. He’s looking at him like he always does, the way that, even after all this time, makes Arthur’s heart soar beyond his chest.

Clark stops right before the couch. His hair is wet from the rain outside, and he removes his dripping glasses. He looks Arthur up and down, barely eyes the trident leaning against the wall.

“Nice suit,” he says, smiling. “Seems like you had quite the week.”

“Don’t I know it.” Arthur goes to sit up, then the bruises hit him at full speed and he’s wincing at the pain.

“Hey, hey,” Clark’s whispering and then he’s right there beside Arthur, his hands on Arthur’s hands resting against his ribs.

“It’s fine,” Arthur affirms, and it’s the truth, it’s only a few bruises from his tussles with his brother and Manta. It does hurt though. “Help me get this off?”

The bright, orange scale mail comes off with ease, same with the pointed, green gauntlets, discarded somewhere on the floor, and Arthur’s skin finally breathes. Clark’s fingers map gently across his arms, his torso, his shoulder and back.

“It’s fine, baby, I’ll heal.”

“I know.” Clark tugs Arthur close, one of his hands drifting up to the nape of his neck and thrumming through his damp hair. They lean back together on the couch, still sitting up, Arthur’s eyes closed against the feel of Clark’s touch.

“What happened?” Clark inquires simply, and the past few days come back to Arthur all at once.

“End of the world type stuff. You know how it is.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I finally met my baby brother.”

“I’m guessing it wasn’t a joyous first meeting.”

“No. I’m not gonna lie, he kicked the shit outta me.” Arthur leans against Clark’ shoulder more, and just lets everything flow out. He tells him about the Ring of Fire, the search for the trident with Mera, going to the Sahara, Sicily, Manta, then… “My mother’s alive.”

Clark goes stiff then, his fingers stop and he leans forward to meet Arthur’s eyes, his bright blues softening, his lips curling upward into a smile. “Arthur…”

“This whole time… she’d been sacrificed to the Trench but she fought through. She’d been trapped for so long with no way back.” The feel of his mother’s arms around him is not lost on his memory. It’s all he can think about; reuniting with her, his father’s reaction. The few memories he had of her, the sound of her voice, they’d been fading away from his memory. To get them back… Arthur can’t describe the feeling. He tries to avoid it, but his vision goes blurry with tears.

Clark’s hand reaches up to his cheek, his thumb skimming past the corner of his eye and comes away damp. “We found her,” Arthur says quietly.

“I’m so happy for you,” Clark responds and Arthur knows he means it. They’d both shared the pain of having only their one parent. The uncertain fate of Arthur’s mother made the only difference with Clark’s lost father, but Clark isn’t one to feel bitterness.

“I can’t wait for you to meet her,” Arthur whispers. Clark smiles softly in response, and Arthur knows he means that too.

They’re sitting so close in the darkness of the apartment. The rain beating away at the windows is the only sound other than their light breathing. Clark is inches away; Arthur plans on doing something about that negative space and soon.

Arthur sighs. “So now I’m king.”

Clark picks up on the hesitance in his voice. “No kidding.”

“Wish I was. So does the general population of Atlantis.”

Clark smiles, shakes his head. “They’ll warm up to you. I did.” They lean back against the couch again, Arthur’s head returning to it’s spot on Clark’s shoulder. “You know you could’ve called me for help.”

“Cell phones normally don’t work underwater, babe.”

Clark gives him a look. “Obviously, smartass. That’s not what I meant.”

Arthur cocks his head to the side. Clark could pick up the sound of his voice if he was all the way across the world. He’s never doubted that and he never will. “I know.  And I love you. And I will next time, whenever I need you.”

 

...

 

Eventually they get up from the damp couch, Clark’s hand gripping Arthur’s as they uncoordinatedly walk towards the bedroom, then the bathroom for a shower. Suddenly the prospect of running warm water spraying across his sore muscles seems like the highlight of his day, and that includes seeing his boyfriend again.

“So king, huh?” Clark asks with an intrigued look as he squirts shampoo into his palm and reaches for Arthur’s hair.

“Yeah. King Arthur isn’t exactly original.”

“Does that mean you’ll be in Atlantis full time?”

Arthur has implicitly chosen not to give much thought to where he will be staying. He knows his mother is going to be on land permanently with his dad except for minor ventures into Atlantis, though she doesn’t have an immediate duty like Arthur does now. He will have to be there, more often than not.

He glances up towards Clark’s gaze, eyeing the familiar blue. Clark’s hands are on either side of his head, running through his strands of hair and over his scalp, the touch familiar and soothing, and this right here, along with all the other memories they’ve had here together, brings any doubt he may have had to a halt.

“Yeah. You can have me on holidays, though.”

“Arthur.”

“Kidding. C’mere.” They embrace under the shower head, the water beating gently down their shoulders. Arthur kisses Clark’s forehead. “Nah, Atlantis and I will have to compromise on that. ‘Cause I’m not giving this up.”

 

…

 

Clark kisses him sweetly, like the sun when it rises over the skyline and meets the sea, his warm hands caressing his arms, gently steering Arthur towards their bed.

Arthur collapses with Clark on top of him and sleeping is only the second thing he wants to do.

“Clark…”

The other man kisses his lips, his nose, his cheek. His fingers thumb damp loose strands away from his eyes, his forehead. Arthur exhales. Nothing else exists outside this room.

“Lie back, sweetheart,” is all Clark says. Arthur does as he’s told and let’s Clark take care of him.

 

…

 

It’s morning. Their room is enveloped in a tender, orange glow. His arms are bunched under his pillow, Clark pressed against his side, his fingertips lightly pattering in a soft rhythm down his back.

“You’re trident is pretty distinct compared to the rest of the place.”

“I think it fits right in.”

Clark chuckles and Arthur’s rolling over onto his back so Clark can grip his jaw and press a soft kiss to his lips. Arthur blinks further awake, leans up to kiss him back. His injuries have no effect on him now. He’s not thinking about Atlantis or anything else that’s not this moment right here.

Clark surveys his face warmly and smiles at him against the early morning light.

“You good?”

Always. “I’m right where I need to be.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> self-indulgent because I missed them
> 
> yay or nay


End file.
